The Poinsettia
by Ana Morada
Summary: Hermione and Ron discover that love can blossom even during the darkest of hours.
1. Pictures

Summary: This takes place directly after the sixth book. Instead of going along with Harry, Hermione and Ron decide to return to school. Just go with it, folks. Don't think too hard about how I'm screwing with the main plot of JK Rowling's seventh masterpiece.

Disclaimer: So completely not mine that it's disgusting.

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Hermione Granger slept upstairs on the second room to the left, her door strange from the others. All the other doors in the house were painted starch white and had matching golden knobs, polished to perfection and lacking of the normal gummy fingerprints seen in less germ-conscious houses. Her mother had a strange pride when it came to how well-kempt their home was and spent twenty minutes everyday walking around the house to polish door handles and cupboard pull opens with an enthusiastic, flawless grin.

Hermione's door handle was just as shiny and taken care of as all the rest, that was hardly the difference at all. The oddity of Hermione's door was that, instead of being a medical lab ivory, the rich surface of it was made of scrubbed cherry wood, so enigmatic in comparison to the rest of the uniform white that when the window across the hall was open, it caught the sunlight and sucked it all up greedily, positively glowing. It was behind this particular door that Hermione Jane Granger slept, bushy brown hair damp from the prior evening's wash and spread across her purple striped pillow in tangled tendrils.

Her eyes were squeezed shut against the invasive sunlight that spread through her window like a stretching hand, and when it's fingers tickled the tips of her eyelashes, she awoke matter-of-factly, chocolaty eyes calm and comfortable as they stared at a dresser laden with occupied picture frames. It was what she awoke to every morning; moving snapshots of Ron making a number of goofy faces at the camera; Harry grinning insanely as he held up an awful self-drawn portrait; Dobby standing awkwardly under six feet of her own knitted hats…

The list went on, and she searched for that one frame that gave her particular peace of mind: In front of the Weasley fireplace, a tall, sparkling Christmas tree stood, heavily weighed down with round red globes and tinsel that really climbed all over the trees, slithering around boisterously. On top of this fat green pine hung a highly disgruntled garden gnome dressed as a ballerina, whom below lay a number of glossy, mismatched packages that Crookshanks was eying greedily from the comfy position on Ginny's lap.

Harry's eyes were trailing to the long, sleek red hair of Ron's sister, but nobody seemed to notice; Fleur sat off to one side, mouth moving conversationally and golden mane swishing as she tossed it over her vain shoulder, while Bill seemed to be the only one listening to her loud, carrying voice; Mrs. Weasley battled with the volume on the stereo, so absorbed that she was missing the way Arthur eyed her appreciatively; Lupin, who had actually been alone during the real party, sat snugly with a pink-haired happy Tonks in his lap, who had crossed over from a neighboring picture; and then there was Ron, who was busying himself by silently tucking a large poinsettia behind Hermione's blushing ear.

The real Hermione watched them now, smiling sadly to herself. The slightly off-colored Ron from the picture stared into Hermione's equally washed out complexion, but nobody could fail to notice the way that time seemed to stop around them, trapping the two inside an invisible bubble only they could feel. Around them the rest of the group laughed and joked and had a good time, but between Hermione and Ron, something deeper was at work.

Blinking, Hermione Granger's attention turned from the snapshot to the alarm clock, and she realized with a jolt that it had failed to ring this morning. Again. Darting out of bed at once, she began to tug on her jeans under her large nightshirt as her father's voice echoed up the stairs. "Hermione Jane, ten minute warning!" Grumbling obscenely, she checked herself and swapped shirts insanely fast, dragging a brush through her hair and worrying about getting her bloated trunk down the stairs before she remembered that, yes, she could do magic, and yes, she had a wand.

Snatching it off her bedside table, she clumsily flicked it and nonverbally got her trunk to levitate, about to leave the room with her feet half in her shoes before she stopped, turned, and seemed to make up her mind. In three giant steps she was standing over all her pictures, fumbling as she hastily removed her favorite one. Tonks flinched when Hermione's thumb pressed over her face, but the bushy-haired brainiac took no notice; Shoving the picture into her pocket, Hermione took off down the stairs in a clatter of jangling ink bottles and quills.

"Sorry I'm late; I had to get something."

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	2. Ties

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Now in the car, then at the station, kissing her parent's goodbye one moment and boarding the train the next. Her trunk disappeared in an above holding area just as the door to her compartment slid open, and she turned breathlessly, shoes thankfully all the way on and light yellow t-shirt looking blasphemous against the plush seats around her. Brown eyes caught blue ones and she froze, barely hearing the door thump shut behind Ron, who looked a few inches taller but no more changed than that. Since the picture was taken he'd acquired another layer of freckles, almost seeming tan, and his face wore a more solemn look these days. Flaming red hair looked oddly flat, and his eyes…They were sad.

"How goes it, 'Mione?"

Her lip trembled as she watched him give her a weak smile, and the next moment she was upon him, squeezing tightly around his chest and feeling him stiffen beneath her touch. He was easily more than a head taller than she, so her bushy hair was nestled in the crook of his neck, tickling his milky skin. For a moment the only sound was her gentle tears, and then he managed to croak, "Not a good summer, I see." Hermione pulled away slightly, just enough so she could crane her neck up to look at him.

"Oh, nonsense, Ron. My summer was just as good as the next person's." This was quite the lie to tell, and Ron caught it immediately as Hermione sniffed loudly. Who on earth would have been able to settle in and enjoy their vacation with old unnamed terror himself running around with his swelling band of death eaters? It would have been different if Harry was still coming to school, Ron knew…but he didn't mention it. He knew Hermione had a special place in her heart for the boy who lived, just as much as Ron saved a spot for his best friend as well. Harry was family, and when he wasn't there, things fell apart a little.

Grudgingly he returned her embrace after a moment, inhaling deeply the scent of her freshly groomed hair and loving the sweet pea shampoo she used. He felt a little guilty, enjoying the pleasure of Hermione against his skin while Harry was out there fighting death, so he pulled away after a moment, coughing to cover up the way his heart constricted at the sight of his muggleborn genius.

Hermione didn't understand his reluctance at first, but she let it slide… Swallowing with difficulty, she mumbled, "You haven't heard from him, then?" Ron shook his head as she knew he would, but she did not expect his blue eyes to look back at her with watery tears threatening. "We should be there with him, Hermione. We should've never let him go alone." She nodded, feeling her own eyes gloss over with the inevitable outcome of sadness. "Ron, there's nothing either of us can do…He left without warning. The Order's out looking for him, everybody's trying to catch him up! For all we know, he could be coming back to Hogwarts after all and he just took…took a little break. That's all." But both of them knew she didn't believe it. Catching the impending breakdown on her face, Ron decided it was time to do a bit of cheering up, just so things didn't get any worse.

"Hey, 'Mione. I got you something back from home. I know you love these…"

And he pulled out of his pocket a cherry red Poinsettia, letting a bit of that old Weasley warmth make its way to his laughing blue eyes. Hermione flushed with pleasure at the sight of it, her tears falling down her face for a mixed reasoning; Harry was off fighting for his life without them…And Ron was standing there, just as casual and sweet as ever, offering her the only thing he had left to give. It wasn't just a flower as he replayed his actions from last year's Christmas party, tucking it gently behind her ear: It was a promise to her of something deeper, and she was so overwhelmed with emotion that her body burned and her tears stung her eyes as Ron inched forward, almost shyly wiping away the sticky wetness off her cheeks.

"Don't worry, ok? We'll both see to it that Harry comes back nice and in one piece by the time this thing is over. And look on the bright side, eh? Ol' ferret boy isn't coming back this year, is he? Stupid blond prat's Voldie's problem now." And Hermione smiled, attacking Ron with another hug that this time was returned immediately, his eyes closing as he buried his face in her cool hair. Breathing her in, he grumbled in a muffled sort of way, "I love you Hermione." And he was almost sure that, as she pressed her left ear against his heartbeat, he heard her whisper back,

"I love you too, Ronald Weasley."

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End file.
